The World is Not Enough
by White Mizerable
Summary: The first time Agent Arthur Kirkland met Doctor Alfred Jones, he was not impressed. James Bond/Indiana Jones AU. Non-graphic sexual references. USUK, AlfredxArthur.


The first time Agent Arthur Kirkland met Doctor Alfred Jones, he was not impressed. It was the summer of 1958, and Arthur had been on a mission deep in the heart of Africa. He was hot, sweaty, and in no mood to let anything get in the way of a success.

The young professor did just that, by literally swinging down into the middle of the gang Arthur was supposed to be targeting and beginning to pound their faces in. Naturally, Arthur couldn't just let him do all the work, and so he'd had to jump into the fray as well, blowing his cover and utterly undoing everything he'd been working towards.

"Bloody idiot!" the agent yelled as he smashed the handle of his pistol into one man's nose. "What did you have to go do that for?"

"Do what?" the taller man asked playfully. "Stop them from stealing priceless artifacts? Cause I think that's kind of self-explanatory!" The whip he'd had coiled up in his hand lashed out around another villain's ankles, yanking him off his feet.

Arthur growled low in his throat. "This was my target, you wanker. You can't just come along and pick off someone else's target!"

"Your target? I don't see your name written anywhere around here!" The annoying stranger ducked as Arthur fired over his head. "Hey, watch it!"

"Stop getting your stupid fat head in the way," Arthur snapped back.

Between the two of them, the whole gang went down in a matter of minutes. That left only them standing there. Arthur frowned. The stranger looked young, very young, as if he were barely out of his teens. Not that Arthur was much older, but still. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I already told you," the taller man replied, his attention elsewhere as he searched through the tents surrounding them. "I'm stopping these guys from stealing a bunch of ancient artifacts. Aha!" He disappeared inside one tent.

"Stealing artifacts? These men were weapons dealers for the Soviet Union." Arthur watched the man reemerge from the tent cradling a small statue in his arms. "What is that?"

The stranger shot him a bright grin. "You sure ask a lot of blunt questions for a secret agent."

Arthur gaped at him. "H-how did you-?"

"Don't worry about it, your secret's safe with me." He tucked the statue into his backpack, before lifting his head and whistling loudly. A short Japanese man stepped out from behind the rock formation nearby, leading two horses. The stranger shot this new arrival a grin. "I'll see you around, 007." And he was gone with the thunder of hooves.

Arthur stood there staring after him for a few minutes afterwards. How-? It was only then that he realized that, while the stranger obviously knew who he was, he didn't even know the other man's name.

***

The second time Arthur Kirkland met Alfred Jones, he'd taken the time to look up the young professor's name, birthday, profession, and favorite color. Not that he really needed the last one, but he was a secret agent, and he could never be too prepared.

This time, they met in Arthur's familiar London streets, on a stereotypical rainy day. Arthur had recognized that hat and blonde hair immediately. Later on he would deny literally running across the street and practically tackling Alfred into an alleyway. Alfred would insist that yes, indeed, he definitely did.

"What was that for?" Alfred frowned at the shorter man, crossing his arms.

Arthur ignored the question. "What are you doing in London?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're mad at me just for being here!" He watched as Arthur's face colored slightly, and grinned. "Wow."

"Shut it, wanker," Arthur hissed. His fingers slid down to the concealed holster under his jacket. "What are you doing in London?"

"Are you threatening me?" Alfred arched one eyebrow, his grin widening. "I should probably warn you, if you shoot me, I'll make your life hell." His hand reached under his own worn leather coat.

Arthur bristled. "Dr. Jones, I would highly suggest leaving London right this instant. This is no place for a moronic American adventurer." He kept his eyes focused intently on the sharp blue ones of his companion. "This is my land, and I expect you to respect that."

"Respect that?" Alfred chuckled. "Sorry, Artie, but you're nowhere near old enough to be an ancient artifact. And those are the only things I can really respect." He stepped forward until they were just inches apart, smiling down like a cat about to catch its prey. "I'm only in London for a few hours. I'll be gone before you know it."

Something cool rolled down Arthur's spine, sending a shiver through his body. "Good," he spat. "Now get out of my sight."

Alfred's smile widened, if that was even possible, and his eyes narrowed behind the rims of his glasses. "Sure thing, sweetheart." He leaned down to whisper into Arthur's ear the same parting words as before. "See you around, 007."

"Bloody-!" But Alfred was gone before Arthur could curse him out.

***

The times after that blurred together. It seemed that wherever Arthur went, Alfred was there as well. China, Australia, France, Mexico- not even the huge circumference of the earth could keep them from running into each other. Alfred never got any less annoying. Arthur never got any less irritated.

But somehow, the agent couldn't help looking forward to meeting the professor. He found himself looking for those blue eyes and stupid hat everywhere he traveled.

It all came to a head during one particularly hard mission in the very heart of the Soviet Union. Arthur was only supposed to steal some nuclear weapons plans from a small military base outside of Moscow. As always, something went wrong. He was running for his life- not before taking out a few of the bastards along the way, of course- and for the first time, he wasn't sure if he was going to make it. He heard a deep voice boom out an order in Russian behind him. Machine gun fire skittered around his heels. And then- dead end.

Arthur drew to a halt, eyes widening. This was bad. He was going to-

"Get down!" Something crashed into his side, knocking him out of the way onto the floor behind a large crate. He looked up, and found himself staring into those now-familiar blue eyes. "You're insane," Alfred breathed over the sound of the machine gun fire.

Arthur forced down the relief that threatened to bubble out of him. Instead, he turned back to his usual, comforting sarcasm. "Yes, well, you can tell me all about that later. Right now, we're in a bit of a situation, in case you haven't noticed."

Alfred's gaze softened, just slightly, and Arthur's stomach did a little flip-flop. "That's the 007 I know." He patted the agent's cheek. "Luckily for you, I've got an escape plan."

"Oh, really?" Arthur raised his impressive eyebrows. "And what would that be?"

"Run like hell."

So they did. And by some miracle, they managed to escape. Not without a few bruises, and Alfred almost lost his hat somewhere along the way, but they made it. Alfred led them to his plane- a WWII American model, Arthur wasn't sure what exactly- and they flew off with bullets on their tail.

Hours later, Alfred set down on an airfield in France. They made their way to a hotel for the night, Arthur insisting on paying for it while Alfred pretended he wanted to, and went upstairs to the two rooms they would be staying in.

Arthur hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. He could feel the professor's gaze on his back. He licked his lips, hesitated for a moment longer, and turned around. "Jones, I-"

All at once he was swept up in a crushing embrace, and he breathed in the smell of sweat and dirt and leather and oil that was so much Alfred. His eyes slipped closed. "When I saw you there, I thought you were going to die," Alfred mumbled into his ear.

"I won't fall that easily," Arthur murmured back, hands coming up to fist themselves in Alfred's coat. "You know that."

Alfred pulled his face away. Arthur looked up at him, and suddenly he was drowning in smoldering blue eyes. "You don't understand," the professor whispered harshly. "I thought I was going to lose you."

A choked noise tore itself out of Arthur's throat. Someone moved- he didn't know who- and then their mouths were pressed together, hungry and desperate and full of passion that had been restrained for months- for years, ever since that first meeting, because there was no point in lying about it anymore. Alfred fumbled for the doorknob, and they stumbled into Arthur's room. The door slammed shut behind them.

It was a wild night, one that blurred together and yet stood out in precise detail in Arthur's mind. The bed had been warm and Alfred had been warm and somehow he'd ended up wearing Alfred's hat and there had been thrusting and moaning and cries of pleasure and Alfred was everywhere, around him and inside him and in the very air he was so desperately taking into his lungs. And afterwards, laying there in bed with his head pillowed against Alfred's chest, Arthur realized that he wouldn't mind this being a constant thing.

He woke up the next morning to an empty bed. His heart sank, and he slowly stood, wincing at the pain in his backside. Something fell off his head. It was a hat… Alfred's hat. He couldn't help the goofy smile that spread across his face. He would definitely need to return this.

***

Their relationship remained that way for years. They couldn't spend more than a night at a time with each other- their lives just didn't work that way, couldn't work that way. Arthur was an agent, after all, and Alfred wouldn't abandon his adventures.

So they spent passionate times together in Germany, in Japan, in Iceland, in anywhere they managed to meet up. And for them, it was enough. Sure, Arthur would sometimes miss that ridiculous grin and awful American accent. And sure, Alfred would sometimes wish he could see those wacky eyebrows and shy smile more often. But for now, it was enough.

Or at least, that's what Arthur had thought as he fell asleep after a particularly ardent round of sex in Rio de Janeiro. He woke up to the usual empty bed- Alfred was notorious for flying before the light of dawn- and smiled at the smell of the professor still lingering on the sheets. He stretched his sore muscles, clambering out of bed and making his way towards the shower. His backside was a little sore as well, but nothing he couldn't handle.

He was just about to go into the bathroom when something on the side table caught his eye. Frowning, Arthur warily made his way over to it. It didn't look like a bomb, or any kind of weapon… It was just a small velvet box. He picked it up, and noticed the note underneath it. It was from Alfred.

"Dear Arthur," Arthur read aloud, his lips quirking in a grin at the professor's messy handwriting, "Sorry for running off again so early. Something came up in Greece- something big, I heard, and it has to do with the Soviets, too." The agent raised his eyebrows. "Anyway, that's not why I wrote this note. We've been seeing each other for almost six years now, haven't we?"

Arthur scoffed at that. Seeing each other? Six years ago, Alfred had jumped into the middle of his mission in Africa. If that was 'seeing each other', Arthur was beginning to wonder just what this whole romance business was.

"You laughed at that, I know you did." Arthur rolled his eyes. "But Arthur, I wanted to ask you something. I love you. You know I do." Color rose in the agent's cheeks, because that certainly was true. "And I know you love me too. So… open the box, okay?"

Confused, Arthur did as he was told. His breath caught in his throat. There, sitting inside, was a small golden ring. It wasn't fancy. It wasn't expensive. But it was perfect.

Arthur turned back to the note, fingers trembling. "Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me? I know it won't change much between us, because that's who we are. But I just wanted to ask you. I'll see you in Greece. Love you, Alfred Jones." Beneath that was a postscript. "Remember the statue I took way back in Africa? That's where the gold for the ring came from. I hope you like it?" And beneath that, in tiny lettering, "Please say yes?"

"Idiot," Arthur murmured fondly. He looked back at the ring for a moment, before slipping it out of the box and onto his finger. With that, Agent 007, Arthur Kirkland- or rather, Arthur Kirkland-Jones- went to take his shower.

* * *

A/N: I keep seeing all these pictures of James Bond!England and Indiana Jones!America, and I just had to write this. It's quick and not very detailed, but I hope you like it anyways!

Oh, and I'm still working on Prometheus Rising, don't worry. The next chapter should be up by the end of the week. Hopefully.


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